CHAPTER IV
IT was at the Bon-Joyeux, Widow Désir's, that the private meeting was organised for Thursday, at two o'clock. The widow, incensed at the miseries inflicted on her children, the colliers, was in a constant state of anger, especially as her inn was emptying. Never had there been a less thirsty strike; the drunkards had shut themselves up at home for fear of disobeying the sensible word of command. Thus Montsou, which swarmed with people on feast-days, now exhibited its wide street in mute and melancholy desolation. No beer flowed from counters or bellies, the gutters were dry. On the pavement at the Casimir bar and the Estaminet du Progrès one only saw the pale faces of the landladies, looking enquiringly into the street; then in Montsou itself the whole desert line extended from the Estaminet l'Enfant to the Estaminet Tison, passing by the Estaminet Piquette and the Tête-Coupée bar; only the Estaminet Sainte-Éloi, which was frequented by captains, still drew occasional glasses; the solitude even extended to the Volcan, where the ladies were resting for lack of admirers, although they would have lowered their price from ten sous to five in view of the hard times. A deep mourning was breaking the heart of the entire country.
"By God!" exclaimed Widow Désir, slapping her thighs with both hands, "it's the fault of the gendarmes! Let them run me in, devil take them, if they like, but I must plague them."
For her, all authorities and masters were gendarmes; it was a term of general contempt in which she enveloped all the enemies of the people. She had greeted Étienne's request with transport; her whole house belonged to the miners, she would lend her ball-room gratuitously, and would herself issue the invitations since the law required it. Besides, if the law was not pleased, so much the better! She would give them a bit of
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